The Time Before
by September And Summer
Summary: They had highs, and they had lows and they had everything in between. They were the infamous four – the Marauders - and they had many troubles to face before James Potter told Lily Evans exactly how she was perfect in the year of 1978. Because Sirius had his family, Remus had his Problem, Peter had his confidence and James had it all.
**Summary:** They had highs, and they had lows and they had everything in between. They were the infamous four – the Marauders - and they had many troubles to face before James Potter told Lily Evans exactly how she was perfect in the year of 1978. Because Sirius had his family, Remus had his Problem, Peter had his confidence and James had it all.

 ** _A/N_** _Hello! Now, I know there's been a_ LOT _of Marauder stories, Lily/James stories and what not, but who cares, because we all love them. But I've been wanting to do one of my own since I started on here (4 years -_ 4 years! _\- ago) and have only done a crap Year 1 Marauder story which I can tell you, I heavily dislike but keep it on here for memorable reasons and the fact my poor thirteen-year-old self would cry if she saw me do it today._

 _ANYWAY, this story begins (predictably) in the fifth-year summer after the incident at the lake etc. It will focus on (mainly) the Marauders and their goings on in sixth-year and seventh-year but will also have the girls involved, because I like to mix it up or else I shall get bored. There are some of my own characters, one of which has been adapted from my poorly constructed old story, but there are some others thrown in there too. Keep in mind that only I have read it through and so I've probably made some spelling/grammatical mistakes - don't hesitate to point them out so I can rectify them ;) Also, I'm putting this as 'M', **not** because there are sexy scenes, but because I don't know just how bad language has to be to fit into this category. _

_Before I waffle on too long, please read and tell me what you think of the first chapter with a review!_

\- September & Summer

 **Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and all rights are with J.K Rowling and other affiliations and only characters unrecognisable to those belong to me.**

 ** _THE TIME BEFORE_**

 **ONE**

 _"The Trouble with Summers"_

Lily Evans was a listener. She listened to the first-years troubles, the second-years crushes, the third-years dates. She listened to her best friend, Severus Snape and her friends. She put all her attention onto the individual in need and made them feel like the only one who mattered in the whole world. She could listen to them for hours.

Lily Evans was a talker. She chattered away to her best friend, Severus Snape whilst he sat silently. She talked to plants she was growing in Herbology; she talked to Professor Flitwick about Charms for ages, a brightness entering her face as she described her perfected way of performing a charm. Her eyes would glow a tad brighter, her hair would bounce and her fingers would twitch in anticipation. She talked to the first, second and third years about their problems and found solutions.

Lily Evans was a laugh. She was witty, sarcastic and laughed a lot. She was even prettier when she laughed. Her laugh would silence the noise around her, singling her out and making her the sole person in the entire hall.

Lily Evans smelt like mango. It was her favourite, tangy and sweet, not too overpowering. It was in her shampoo and her perfume and left a trail wherever she went.

Lily Evans was kind. She'd stop and help the first years who lost their way or dropped their books. She mentored them in the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays and had a timetable to keep check because of her many appointments. She was a prefect and did her duties perfectly and every day.

Lily Evans was beautiful.

James Potter knew all these things. He knew that no one could be perfect: Lily Evans was fiery, self-righteous, irritating and spent far too much time with Severus Snape. Lily Evans was annoying, supercilious and _awful_ at Transfiguration.

But James Potter had to apparently take a 'step back'.

For James Potter had written his vow as soon as he entered the train and met Sirius Black at ten forty-nine in the morning. He signed his fate when he and Sirius lassoed Remus Lupin into his group. He took on his destiny when he saw the loneliness in Peter Pettigrew. And that meant trouble.

They had highs, and they had lows and they had everything in between. They were the infamous four – the Marauders, and they had many troubles to face before James Potter told Lily Evans exactly how she was perfect in the year of 1978. Because Sirius had his family, Remus had his Problem, Peter had his confidence and James had it all.

* * *

 **1976**

 **August**

 _The trouble with summers,_ James Potter mused, _is that they're very long when you have nothing to do._

It had been six weeks and two days since James Potter had left his fifth-year and entered the summer holidays. It had been three weeks and two days since the last measly letter he'd received from Remus Lupin.

 _Prongs –_

 _Mum and Dad are taking me to Thailand tomorrow for a bit of 'culture' experience. I suppose it should be good, and in actual fact I won't be babysitting you lot for the entire summer. Four weeks of freedom, that's what I say. It also means no writing as Dad says my owl will probably explode for god knows reasons but who wants to take an exploding-owl-risk? So I'll see you when I get back, which will be towards the end of the summer, my apologies for keeping the delightful thing that is me away from you and Padfoot, who I assume is staying with you for the majority of the holiday? Oh, and remember to write to Peter._

 _Have a good time a la Frances,_

 _-Moony_

It had only been one week since Sirius's last letter, containing his choicest words about how he felt about his cousin, Narcissa Black, and her new fiancée Lucius Malfoy. Peter's letter had been a day before that. James had sent a reply to all of them, even when he was holidaying in France with his family.

Although the absence of his friends played heavily into his boredom levels and the fact that it had rained for a fair few days, it wasn't all bad news. He had his cousin with him.

"James you better fucking let me checkmate you or I'll shove the entire chess set up your ass."

Graciela Fawley, mainly known as Grace because of her dislike for her full one, was sat directly opposite him frowning at the chessboard as though it had morally offended her. It had taken an hour and a half to get the stubborn witch to play, and James himself only wanted to play because there was nothing else to do. He usually played cards with his friends instead of chess.

Gracie put her elbows on her knees to look at the board some more. "I don't even remember _moving_ that one!" she protested, shaking her hair out of her face. "You've been cheating!" she accused him, waggling a finger annoyingly.

"I'm just too good at chess," James replied, a smug little grin playing on his face.

At first glance, James and Grace looked rather similar. Her hair looked the same colour as James's, and when she got up in the morning it certainly _looked_ like James's, which meant it was very, very messy. They both had tanned skin which was slightly darker after their trip to France, but Gracie's nose was smaller and James had glasses. Sometimes James enjoyed the fact people mistook them for brother and sister, but on other occasions he decided he hated the fact they looked similar, mainly because Gracie could be _extremely_ annoying.

"You are _not_ good at chess," stated Grace. "We're both so shit we make each other look good."

James decided it was one of the times he _didn't_ like his cousin.

"I am very good at chess," he insisted. "I'm making myself look worse so _you'll_ feel better –"

"Yeah because I totally need –"

"Ah, Freddie look they're like the same person but in different genders!"

James and Grace swivelled round to find their two older cousins standing in the doorway. The one who had spoken was resting against the doorframe with his arms crossed whilst his brother looked on and rolled his eyes.

"Piss _off_ Max, I'm beating James at chess –"

Maxwell Fawley scoffed, pushing himself off the doorframe, flicking his light hair out of his eyes.

"Chess? You two don't even know the _rules_ of chess."

Grace let out a noise of disbelief. "Excuse me, you thought a pawn was that muggle thing –"

Freddie snorted from the doorway. "Dumbass."

"Gracelia, can we get back to the game?" asked James pointedly, grinning because he knew her exact next move.

" _Don't_ call me Gracelia, Jamie-boy."

"It's what your mother named you," sang the wizard annoyingly.

"Yes well, we've agreed that she's a fool –"

"… and what did Uncle Don want to name you? –"

"James."

"… ah yes, little baby Varaminta …"

"I hate you."

James grinned and pushed his glasses up his nose. Grace scowled at him. She looked at the chessboard and picked a piece to sabotage. James repressed grinning wider.

"So, Freddie-o, how's the new job?" asked the witch across from him.

Freddie Fawley sat down on James's large bedspread whilst his brother Maxwell took the armchair as his own. He grinned.

"Excellent," he stated. "Easy work, a disbelieving amount of girls, all of which have not yet felt the Fawley – er –" he coughed as he looked at his brother and Gracie. "The _Freddie Fawley_ charm."

"Right," said Grace dryly. "So you don't do anything but flirt with the girls in the office all day?"

"Precisely," nodded Freddie.

"So when your Dad realises he's got you a job where you yet again don't do anything, he'll what? Stop finding you work?"

"Probably not," said Freddie, apparently deep in thought. He visibly brightened, however, a moment later. "But I have a date tomorrow!"

"Ah, remind me of her name so I can write a letter to warn her?"

"No thanks," said Freddie sweetly. "I think I'll let her find out herself."

Maxwell, who was picking his teeth, perked up when their conversation ended. "Justin Pimpernickel's playing in the Leaky Cauldron tonight. Johnny and the others are going."

"I'll go," said Freddie.

"No thanks," said James. "I think there's a line, even when you have nothing to do."

"What's wrong with Justin Pimpernickel?"

"Well, his name for a start," said James. "And the fact he plays _terrible,_ terrible music."

"I have to agree," said Gracie, who had reached for the newest copy of _Witch Weekly_ now that James was distracted from the game. "I mean, if it was _Jittered Jinxes_ who were playing, I'd be off my arse in a heartbeat –"

"- but it's not, so we'll see you two losers later," said Freddie, as both he and his brother leapt to his feet and sauntered out the room. Maxwell wiggled his fingers as he shut the door behind him, not noticing Gracie's rude gesture aimed in his direction.

"By the way, Grace," James said, turning back. " _Checkmate."_

" _Fuck."_

* * *

An hour later, after Grace upturned the chess board and threatened to destroy it, James found himself lying on his bed facing the ceiling whilst Grace had taken over the armchair with a copy of _Witch Weekly,_ and neither had left the room yet.

"Gracie."

"Mm."

" _Gracie."_

"Did you know Clarissa Tugwood's is engaged? Oooh and to a member of Jittered Jinxes …"

"Dear Merlin Gracie, no one _cares_ about that rubbish."

"Oh really? Then how come _Witch Weekly_ sells over one million copies around the country every week? Answer that Jamie-boy."

"Well, Gracelia, they are all deluded – and all witches who like gossip. I, on the other hand, am not deluded, nor a witch who likes gossip, so I for one find them extremely dull."

"Stop trying to be smart – and don't call me Gracelia."

Grace settled back into her Witch Weekly again and was soon absorbed in it, whilst James stared idly at the ceiling wishing Grace was still doing her running commentary on the gossip.

It wasn't long until the peace was disturbed, not by James, but by Maxwell Fawley, returning from downstairs, who flung open James's bedroom door so hard it slammed against the wall then sprang back and hit Maxwell on the nose.

James, who had leapt to his feet at the noise, and Grace, who had chucked her magazine at the door in defence (it had fallen a good five meters short) started snorting with laughter.

"Ouch," said Maxwell, opening the door a normal-person's way, and rubbing his nose. "That bloody hurt."

"Why did you feel the need to fling it open anyway?" asked Grace, fetching her magazine and walking back to the chair again.

"Well, my young naïve cousins, I just had a very fulfilling last hour," said Max.

"In what way?" asked James cautiously. He had supposed that his cousin had been downstairs, not out of the house completely.

"Well I had a _very_ nice shag with Fearne McCamm."

Grace wrinkled her nose. "Did we need to know?"

"You asked, dearest cousin."

"Well a little warning may be nice …"

"Why? S'not like you're all innocent, Little Miss Shagalot."

"Excuse me, I've slept with _one person_!"

"Yeah, as soon as you turned sixteen –"

"You don't last four days," shot back Grace.

"And that's because I'm twenty, not sixteen."

"James lost his the same time!"

"I don't like talking about this." This was James.

"Why not?"

"Well, considering I don't have siblings, Gracie's kind of a replacement and that's a very weird thing to talk about with hypothetical-sisters."

"I get your drift," nodded Maxwell. "Seen Freddie?"

"I thought he was downstairs with you," said Grace vaguely, who had gone back to her magazine now James had put a stop to the conversation.

"He may have said he was going out – er – to work?"

"Not fucking likely, probably flirting some girl he saw," said Maxwell, grinning.

"Why are all our family seemingly horny all the time?" Grace asked James pointedly. James shrugged. "Must be the genes." he said.

"Well I don't like them," said Grace.

"Oh yeah, I was meant so say – Aunt Phemia, Uncle Monty and Auntie Isabelle, are going out tonight," said Maxwell, who was evidently not listening.

"Why?" demanded James. "to make me even more bored?"

"Excuse me, I'm here." This was Grace.

"Yes, you are a bundle of fun whilst reading _Witch Weekly_ ," scoffed James. "Seriously Max, where's Mum and Dad going?"

"They're off to see Derwent Shimpling – he does a comedy show in London Friday nights."

"Isn't he the guy who's purple?" asked Grace, looking up from her magazine. "He's meant to be funny."

"Yeah he ate some Venomous Tentacula for a bet … I think your mum and dad are going too, Gracelia …"

"Sounds like something Sirius would do," remarked James as Grace said darkly: "Don't call me Gracelia."

"Gracelia!"

This was not Max or James, in fact, it came from downstairs and sounded very much like Grace's mother Rosalyn's voice.

Grace groaned. "Why? Why Gracelia?"

"Could've been Gracelyn," said James.

Grace had walked to the door by this time and wasn't listening.

"Couldn't have been Grace like a normal mother would have done – or, pushing it, Gracie – but oh no, it had to be _Gracelia Euphemia_ , like that's not a mouthful and a half –"

"I think Aunt Phemia will be offended."

"Don't be stupid," said James. "She thinks it's a mouthful too."

Maxwell snorted with laughter at this.

Grace glared at them both before sauntering out of the room, yelling back to her mother that she was coming.

* * *

 **1971**

 _(Toujours Pur)_

It wasn't the first time that a member had been blasted off the unpleasant tapestry which hung on a wall in the drawing room, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. There were already a number of charred black remains where embroidered pictures used to be, nothing more than a memory; never mentioned, never heard of. And never, Sirius decided, had any of them tried to come back.

It wasn't the first time that Sirius Black had seen a member of the family to be blasted off the tree.

But it was the first time he'd seen someone he cared about vanish without a trace.

It had started at dinner. Considering the size of the family, it wasn't odd nor surprising when there were members apart from Sirius, his parents and his brother, round the stupidly large dining table on the ground floor.

That evening was no different; they had been joined by Walburga's brother, Cygnus Black, his wife Druella Rosier and their three beautiful daughters: Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. Bellatrix had left Hogwarts two years beforehand and Andromeda had just left, and was now secretly working as an anonymous journalist for the Daily Prophet. Narcissa, however, was only fifteen.

Sirius Black was to start his education at Hogwarts in just three weeks. His brother, Regulus, only ten, was jealous and had not spoken to him since he'd received his letter.

"I didn't realise you'd hired more – ah – staff," was Cygnus' first comment of the evening, apart from the usual "Good evening". He was mentioning the fleet of new house elves which roamed the halls of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, new to the family and already frightened of their service towards the family.

"Well," Walburga started, after finishing a mouthful of the starter: a small bowl of onion soup. "Considering the last one decided to break my mother's tea set, I decided I needed newer ones, you know – younger and better."

"Too right," chirped Druella, whose black curls were exactly like Bellatrix's. "I was telling Cygnus the other day that we needed more of them –"

"We have thirty already, Ella," pointed out Cygnus, looking rather irritated. "Any more and they'll be no space for us."

"Nonsense," said Bellatrix, waving her spoon haphazardly about. Walburga, who would have mentioned the outrageous behaviour to anyone else, ignored it, because Bellatrix was her favourite. "Poor Cissy had to wait an age for her breakfast the other day – she wrote to me about it! Quite ridiculous – I agree with Mother."

"Thank you, Bellatrix," said Druella. "Andromeda, what say you?"

Andromeda, who had not raised her head since the soup had arrived, prodded the soup slightly before answering.

"I do not mind," she said.

Walburga quirked an eyebrow at her sister-in-law, who merely shrugged. Druella, it seemed, had given up on her less-than-appropriate daughter, and in any case, she had another two to think of.

Sirius did not contribute to the conversation. His thoughts were of the head of the house elf, which, only days before hand, had been walking the halls of his home and dutifully going about her duty. It was not something he wanted to relive, and as an eleven-year-old, should not have witnessed.

Instead, the boy sat silently, with his brother on one side and an equally silent father on the other. Orion was not a man who spoke many words – Walburga generally did the talking, even if the recipient wanted it or not.

Ten minutes into the second course, Bellatrix turned to Sirius.

"So, cousin," she began. "Are you excited to join Hogwarts in a few weeks? Rod's cousin Avery is starting when you are."

"Excited, yes," replied Sirius. "I didn't realise Rodolphus was connected to Avery."

"Of course," said Bellatrix. "His mother was an Avery – very good linage."

Rodolphus Lestrange was Bellatrix's husband of one year. Sirius had attended the rather bleak wedding; he had realised, then, that Bellatrix and Rodolphus had done it out of loyalty to their parents, and to carry on the 'respectable pureblood line'.

It was one of the first times Sirius had disliked being a member of the Blacks. And it wasn't going to be the last.

"Speaking of which," Walburga said, leaning her head towards Andromeda. "Which one have you got, Andromeda?"

"We're thinking of Wilkes," said Druella. "Don't you think?"

"I suppose," said Walburga, nodding.

"Wilkes has a large nose," said Narcissa unexpectedly. She did not blush when her family looked at her enquiringly. "It could affect future children." She said to explain herself.

"Quite right," said Walburga. "You don't want to affect that. How about Montgomery Flint? He's still available."

"He's twenty five years older!" Andromeda's words seemed to slip out of her mouth but it did nothing to quell the disgusted look upon her face.

"Your point?" asked Bellatrix. Her eyes had been given a steely, evil glint and were staring at Andromeda as though she was expecting this to happen. "You do want to carry on the line. Don't you, Andromeda?"

"Not if I have to marry a forty-three year old!" snapped Andromeda.

Everyone's plates had been forgotten, and a house elf that had come to clear them away, saw the commotion, and backed out again. The door swung shut.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed.

"You're still seeing that Mudblood, aren't you?"

"Don't call him that!"

"They are!" butted in Narcissa. "I – I saw them the other day!"

Sirius and Regulus watched the events unfold, silent and fearful.

"Is this true?"

It was Cygnus. He was watching his daughter with narrowed eyes, which looked disappointed and rather angry.

"Andromeda. Is this true?"

"Yes."

Andromeda's words acted as a switch on button. The room was suddenly avid with shouts from the Blacks, minus Sirius, Regulus and Orion. Orion looked as though he'd swallowed something unpleasant, whilst Bellatrix, Walburga and Cygnus were levelled in their shouts. Druella had burst into tears and Narcissa looked vaguely guilty about fessing up.

All in all, it wasn't surprising that Andromeda left abruptly, and the rest of her family left shortly after to find her.

Sirius had seen his mother angry before: angry at him, angry at the houselves and his father and the press. But the look on her face made him recoil slightly when she advanced on him and his brother. Instinctively, Sirius stepped in front of Regulus.

Walburga's chest was rising and falling at a heavy pace, her hair was puffing out around her sallow face and her eyes were wide with fury. She yanked Sirius and Regulus by the shirts as soon as the door slammed shut.

"Walburga –" Orion muttered.

Walburga did not seem to hear him; she turned on her heel and marched up the stairs, wrenching the two brothers with her in her blinded anger. Sirius did not know their destination until they were deposited in the Drawing Room. Sirius had always disliked the room; it was grey and dull and where his mother 'entertained' guests.

Walburga was busy streaming over to the tapestry.

She pivoted on the spot with her short wand raised in her hands.

"This is what happens," she began. "When you defy your family." With a short blast, Andromeda's stitched on face was no more than a smoking, black hole.

"What will happen to her?" asked Regulus, who was watching the hole with vague interest.

"If they find her," Walburga's nostrils flared. "She'll wish she'd never left."

She walked stiffly out the room, smiling nastily at the prospect of her niece getting blown to pieces, and Regulus did not wait too long to follow her.

Sirius, however, remained in the drawing room. He looked carefully at the charred black hole, and then down to his own stitched face on the tapestry. It stared back at him and he knew.

* * *

 _James_

It was fair to say that James Howard Potter had a far _easier_ start to life than Sirius did. He was born to aging but loving parents, never had many rules to obey by since he was five years old and able to ride a broomstick since he was three.

So it was fair to say that James Howard Potter had a significantly _better_ start to life than Sirius did.

But on the so called 'fateful' day of September 1st, 1971, James Howard Potter's significantly easy life decided to end. Not completely, but just enough so that James had his fair share of troubles from there on out, but it did not mean he took it hard. Quite the contrary. He took it on the chin and bared it. His parents had bared all their problems before him, and that was where he took inspiration from.

His parents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, had doted upon him very much, because being an only child meant that they had no one else to give their love to (besides one another), apart from James' cousins on Euphemia's side. He liked them.

The meeting of James Potter and Sirius Black happened at about ten forty-nine in the morning.

It was an ordinary day for most people, but in the wizarding side of the world, eleven-year-old witches and wizards were queuing up to join the many students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And James Potter and Sirius Black certainly weren't the only ones.

"James you will behave won't you?" asked Euphemia Potter, who really already knew the answer.

"Behave in what sense?" asked the eleven-year-old, grinning up at his mother, the eyes behind his glasses glinting.

Euphemia scowled down at him but it passed into a grin similar to her son's and she ruffled his already untidy hair, then sighed.

"We'll miss you, you know," she said and gave her only son a tight hug.

"Mum, _Mum_ , you'll see me at Christmas – _Mum_!"

"Sorry, you're too old for hugs now, aren't you?" said Euphemia.

"Mum –"

"She's teasing you, James," said Fleamont Potter, nudging his laughing wife. Though age was catching up on her, her young beauty could still be seen on her smiling face. "You'd better get on the train."

"Say hello to Gracie for us," said Euphemia and James rolled his eyes.

"Mum you saw her a month ago." Euphemia decidedly ignored him.

"Write to your old parents," Euphemia reminded and James perked up when he saw everyone getting onto the scarlet steam engine. "even if you're distracted."

James didn't seem to be listening anymore, as he hugged his parents quickly, waved at them and ran off towards the train, leaving his laughing parents behind him.

Getting on the train was a new experience for James. He'd never been on a train before, being pureblood and trains being muggle contraptions, and wasn't experienced in containing his excitement.

In fact, he was so distracted by the sights, he did not notice, at ten forty-nine in the morning, the boy coming from the opposite direction, obviously looking for a carriage himself.

"Ouch!" said the other boy when James collided with him. He seemed to be the same age, with black hair which seemed much more tamed than James', and some posh robes.

"Sorry," James said immediately and grinned. The boy, who rubbed his head slightly, looked faintly bemused at James's evident enthusiasm, but ended up grinning himself.

"No problem," he said. "I was finding a carriage."

"So was I," admitted James.

"Well, there's a practically empty carriage back down there," replied the boy, popping his thumb behind him. "I doubt the girl in there will mind."

"Sounds like a plan," said James. He brushed his hair out of his face. "James Potter."

"Sirius Black."

And really, that was it.

* * *

 **1976**

 _Sirius_

Sirius Black was forcefully remembered of Andromeda's departure five years beforehand when he was haphazardly throwing various items in his trunk. It seemed like a decade had passed since he'd watched his mother burn her off the tapestry, and really, he knew his face would meet the same fate once she figured out what Sirius was about to do.

But he'd had enough.

He left the posters – Muggle and Wizarding alike – on his walls, because he'd stuck them on with a charm and he knew it would annoy his mother a lot more if he left parts of his traitorhood behind.

He somehow managed to fit all his precious records in his trunk along with all the things he needed for Hogwarts in the coming year. Sirius's plans for departure were not exactly spontaneous.

Two weeks before, Narcissa had announced her engagement to Lucius Malfoy. It started off as a complimentary occasion, which Sirius was forced to attend, but it quickly turned sour when Walburga decided to compare Lucius' apparent achievements (being rich, a Slytherin and a pureblood) and Sirius' disappointments (being reckless, a Gryffindor and going against his family). Sirius soon had enough of the horrid words spewing out of his mother's equally horrid mouth, and left Druella and Cygnus' house in favour of Diagon Alley.

It was there he saw the looming building of Gringotts, and there he had an idea.

Usually in the summer, he went round James Potter's house. Somehow he'd not been able to escape the clutches of his mother and was resigned to the fact that he'd spent six weeks in what he liked to call _earth's little hell hole._

Sirius was brought back to present by the sound of a large thump, which was caused by Sirius himself when he dropped a book into his trunk but missed; it hit the side and fell onto the floor.

On the floor next to the large book – Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 – which was last year's book which Sirius had not even opened, was a crumpled letter that he had forgotten about. He never really kept letters, but replied to them when necessary.

This one was from James.

 _Padfoot,_

 _France is pretty decent as always, and it was dead boring for the first week, but then Gracie, Max and Freddie came over too so it's been better after that._

 _You'd like where we're staying as well – there are some VERY nice birds over here, and they apparently love my accent, which is great, really, because I happen to like theirs and speak fluent French, which means it's win, win for me._

 _Anyway, Gracie managed to smuggle some firewhiskey into her bag, and Max and Fred stole some tequila and some other muggle drink from Isabelle's stores before they came too, and so I am currently nursing the world's worst hangover at the moment. Yeah, and apparently Gracie is too because she's just yelled at me for being too loud (by writing this letter, apparently quills are too noisy). As great as I am, I don't have the stuff needed for a hangover potion (nor a cauldron, which is kind of a necessity), and when my gits of cousins came over with alcohol they didn't think of bring some as well._

 _We're back Friday, by the way, so come over anytime, Mum says, so how about Saturday? I'll get Moony and Wormtail over on Sunday, because it's still a week before Moony's night. I have a feeling Max, Freddie and Gracie are going to stay at ours as well, so there's a little warning (it will be good for Quidditch)._

 _Anyway, Gracie's just thrown a book at my head so I'd better go_

 _\- Prongs_

Sirius held the crumpled bit of parchment from the week before in his hands, which had started to shake slightly as he read. There had been footsteps on the stairs, and Sirius realised he had to get a move on before it was too late.

"SIRIUS BLACK!"

With a jolt in his heart, Sirius scanned the room and found he had scanned everything – he slammed his trunk closed, then turned to face the door. There were heavy pants on the other side, signalling to Sirius that it was his mother who had decided to catch him.

Somehow, after dodging his mother's threatening wand, Sirius managed to escape the fight with only a few bruises. It was reasonable to admit that he had, in his full sixteen-years of life, never seen Walburga Black as angry as she had been just then.

But her constant remarks had been the last straw.

When he realised, upon hearing Bellatrix's stories about the house, that Slytherin wasn't all it was hyped up to be, he'd decided against going there. Since the first time of getting on the train to Hogwarts and meeting James Potter, Sirius decided he was not entirely like his family. When he got sorted into Gryffindor and became slightly estranged from his parents, Sirius realised the Blacks were not for him. Since his brother was sorted into Slytherin had made friends with Avery's brother, Sirius knew he was gone.

So these were partially the reasons why Sirius Black was currently brandishing his wand at his window and making it burst open. Law or no law, Sirius was using magic to get out of the house. He had made his trunk light as a feather and soon levitated it out the window – no one would see it, because the protection spells to stop muggles approaching their house, stopped their visibility – before climbing precariously out of it himself. His mother had gone to get 'reinforcements', by way of meaning poking her head in the fire and calling Druella, Cygnus and Bellatrix over.

Luckily for him, he was tall enough to cling from his windowsill and manage to hit the window on the floor below with his feet. It earned him scratches and bruises, and with his luck it was raining, but he somehow managed to get to the floor without breaking anything other than the windowsills.

The rain, which had started as a slight shower was coming down harder than ever, and Sirius struggled with his trunk through the puddles and thorns to the gate. Getting out, he quickly threw out his right arm with his wand and waited for the Knight Bus to appear.

 _BANG._

It rolled to a stop outside Grimmauld Place and Sirius looked apprehensively over his shoulder. Regulus Black stared down at him from a window on the upper floors. Sirius gave him a mock salute before letting the conductor grab his trunk, and got onto the bus. Regulus disappeared from the window as Sirius shook himself like a dog and handed some sickles to the conductor, who was displeased at having flecks of water on his uniform.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Just outside Stroud, please," said Sirius, ignoring the curious looks from the conductor as he took in his bruises.

The conductor shrugged it off. "Five stops."

Sirius sat on a bed with his trunk on the end. He was still wet from being in the rain for five minutes, and he soon grew uncomfortable. His scratches had begun to twinge, but considering he was used to much, much worse, he ignored them.

 _You can't go back._

Sirius scowled and sank lower in his bed. Though he was pleased with what he'd done, he still felt a painful tug somewhere in his body as he thought of Regulus. He'd never be able to talk him out of the bad side anymore.

 _You can't go back._

"Manchester." The conductor helped three elderly ladies off the bus, and Sirius wondered vaguely why they were out at eleven o'clock in the evening without looking like they were going home anytime soon.

 _You can't go back._

The rain still slammed against the rattling windows of the Knight Bus as it shot through some scruffy fields, making lampposts and post-boxes jump out the way. Sirius wrapped his arms around him and cursed his bad luck that he was not seventeen until November, and therefore couldn't perform a drying a spell (as he was still in the house when he made his trunk lighter).

You can't go back.

After another stop, Sirius began to have his doubts of where he was going. Though he had visited James' house every summer since first year, he wasn't sure just how keen the Potter's would be when he turned up, trunk in hand, a day early, and with the plea to stay there the remaining weeks of the summer. He soon brushed away the doubt and replaced it with eagerness for him to see his best friend. It was hard, and his thoughts soon strayed back to the negative side.

"'Scuse me? It's your stop," said a voice above him. Sirius blinked and realised he had fallen into a doze. The conductor was looking over him and seemed rather irritated.

"I'll take your trunk," said the conductor. Sirius nodded and hopped off the bed. "Just outside Stroud, eh? Nothin' here – you sure this is where you wanted to go?"

Sirius nodded as he stepped outside and was immediately drenched by the downpour. He saw the familiar trees and hidden halfway down the narrow lane was the driveway to Potter manor.

The conductor put his trunk on the ground before hopping back onto the bus.

"Thanks for doin' business with the Knight Bus," said the conductor before there was a loud BANG, and the bus had disappeared.

Now that Sirius was alone in the pouring rain, the darkness, which was closing in now the headlamps from the bus had gone, and stranded with his trunk, he suddenly felt slightly spooked. His long hair was already dripping and plastered to his head.

Grabbing his trunk and slipping slightly, he began the trek to the entrance to the driveway. Inwardly, Sirius cursed James for living in an awkward place and not a normal place like London or somewhere actually populated, and glared in the direction of the house.

But sadly, Potter manor was one of the few places that Sirius loved (the others being Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley), and everything about it, thought being huge, felt extremely homely. It was a spacious house, grey brick with ivy crawling over it and a fair few balconies, with (James and Sirius had counted) ten bedrooms (one being used for Mr and Mrs Potter, James, Sirius himself as he was there so often, Remus and Peter, Gracelia Fawley and his other two cousins) six bathrooms (one haunted by a gremlin in the sink), a ballroom, kitchen, living room … the list went on. In fact, it was so big it had a nearly-to-scale Quidditch pitch in a field next to the house.

By now Sirius was walking down the gravel drive, struggling rather badly with his trunk, which kept getting caught on stones, and swearing every five seconds. It was a good thing the loud patters of rain drowned out his swearwords.

After wiping the droplets of rain out of his eyes, Sirius was relieved to see a flicker of lights not too far away, and sped up.

He very nearly collapsed on the large stone porch when he arrived at Potter manor, and forgot to knock for five minutes.

When he did, he waited until he heard a clatter of footsteps within.

"Who the bloody hell – Gracie if this is you I told you – _Sirius_!" James Potter had opened the door and blinked in surprise at seeing his best friend standing on the front porch. It took a second as he gave him a once over, taking in his soaked appearance and large bruises on his face.

"Alright, mate?" Sirius attempted at first before grimacing at James' shocked, and rather angry, expression.

"What – what the fuck happened, Padfoot?"

"I – I had to – I had to get out of there," said Sirius, wide-eyed and realising just what he had done for the first time. James seemed to be just as shocked.

"What – wha – wait, just, come in, come in!" James stood out of the way and let Sirius into the house, and he noticed his school trunk was with him.

Sirius walked into the hallway and put his trunk at the bottom of the stairs. James followed him through, just as a house-elf appeared out of thin air.

"Good evening, masters," he squeaked. "Is there anything I can Masters?"

"Strong whiskey," muttered Sirius and a small smile flitted across James' face.

"Er – just bring some mead, won't you?" then, to respond to Sirius's raised eyebrows, he added. "Not too strong I do actually want to hear this story and not just the start."

The house-elf, who did not seem to take James and Sirius's ages into account, nodded once and popped off.

"Let's go into the lounge," said James and he walked off into the door on his right.

"Are you alone?" asked Sirius, shaking his head again to rid himself of water. He wished he and James were able to magic outside Hogwarts.

"Yeah," was James's reply. "My darling family decided to all go see this comedy show - I mean, Gracie wasn't even meant to go, but then she did and it was all very annoying."

By this time they had sat themselves down on two armchairs, with James looking uncharacteristically serious and Sirius squirming uncomfortably. He decided to get it over with.

"It started getting worse yesterday."

* * *

 _James_

 _(One Hour Previously)_

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to go, James? He's supposed to be quite funny," said Euphemia Potter. She was tall and willowy, but was still short compared to James. In fact, she looked practically minuscule in the picture on the mantelpiece, as she stood between Sirius and her son. The little moving photographic Mrs Potter kept standing on her tiptoes.

They were sat in the Potter's kitchen drinking tea. The cousins, minus Gracie who had decided it was much more fun annoying James than going home, had gone and it was only Mrs Potter, James and Grace in the house.

"I'm really sure, Mum," insisted James. "I don't really fancy going to a comedy show. Anyway, who will watch Twink whilst we're all away? She's off the rails, that one."

Euphemia rolled her eyes. "Don't blame the house elf of _your_ faults."

"Mothers should not think their sons should have faults," said James primly. His mother swiftly smacked his head. "Ouch."

"Like that hurt," scoffed Euphemia. "Are you sure? Even your Dad's coming."

"Not even the words ' _even Dad'_ will make me want to go," said James.

"It's nice to know how much you like spending time with your family," sniffed Euphemia, half-joking.

"Because spending two weeks with you all isn't enough?"

"Two weeks is hardly anything," said Euphemia.

James groaned. "Don't go sentimental, Mum."

Mrs Potter grinned, not unlike the one her son often used. It was crooked and could spell out exactly what he was feeling.

There was a pause. "Are you _sure?"_

 _(Thirty-Five Minutes Previously)_

"I can't believe you're leaving me," complained James, acting half his age. "You said you weren't going. We had a _deal."_

"I don't remember any deal, Jamie, now leave me alone," snapped Grace, who was brushing her wet hair. "Anyways, you can still come."

"No," said James adamantly. "I've already had a debate with my mother, I can't backtrack now."

"Well then that's your problem isn't it?" said Grace, attaching earrings.

"Why are you dressing up?"

"Guys will most probably be there," the witch said absent-mindedly. She had a fair few things at the Potter's house.

"Ri-ight, and a nice evening out with your family is a great time to pick up a guy who goes to see a purple guy?"

"OK, Jamie, get the hell out."

"It's my house."

"It's my room, so leave before I trap your god awful –"

"I'm going, I'm _going!"_

"Go _quicker!"_

"Keep your wig on woman –"

James left his cousin to it after she threw a shoe at him to make him get out quicker. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he wandered off. His house was so big he did not meet anyone as he walked through the corridors. Without Sirius, Remus and Peter, the house seemed desolate and dull. He couldn't even play Quidditch properly, for it was boring with just him and Grace. Usually he'd get Sirius, drag Peter and Remus out too and in the event that Gracie was there too persuaded Maxwell to join in as well.

Running a hand through his hair, James stopped by the library and poked his head through.

"Hi, Dad."

Fleamont Potter, though rather unfortunately named, was a tall man, handsome in his youth, had a good sense of humour and a streak of a more prankish nature. This was where James had discovered many of his abilities from. His hair was neater than James', though it was currently looking as though it had suffered severe electric shocks, caused by his hand running though it numerous times.

"Oh, hullo James."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Ah," Mr Potter waved his hands over several long pieces of parchment, some of which were rolling over the floor. "Just sorting out paperwork."

"No time like the present," said James pleasantly.

"Exactly," agreed Fleamont.

"You do realise you're leaving in five minutes?"

Fleamont managed to drop the parchment and nearly set alight to it.

"Really? Blimey – time flies – does your mother know I'm here?" asked Mr Potter, looking slightly fearful at his wife's temper.

"Not that I know of," said James. "But she'll probably kill you."

"Right, yes she probably will, won't she?" said Fleamont. "Shit. I mean – bollocks – mean –"

"Uncle Monty, your language is fabulous," said Gracie, walking into the room as James snorted with laughter. "But we really must be off – are you even ready?"

She sounded very much like her mother and her Aunt.

"Yes," lied Fleamont. "I just need my jacket."

 _(Fifteen Minutes Previously)_

It took little time for Mr Potter to find his jacket, but took longer for him to change all his clothes when his wife demanded it of him. Throughout the entire exchange, Grace and James found it hard to supress grins. Soon Grace's parents joined the fray, for Donald Fawley was not wearing a jacket and this annoyed Euphemia and Grace's mother, Rosalyn.

By the time jackets were given out and they found that it was pouring down outside, the two Potters and three Fawleys were rather late.

"Behave, James," said Euphemia, pulling his down so she could kiss the top of his head.

"Thanks mother," said James sarcastically. "Have a nice evening." He wiggled his fingers rather sardonically at them, making Gracie flip a finger at him just before she disappeared outside the door. There was a little shriek as she exited the covered porch and the rain hit her, but Donald clipped onto her arm and twisted on the spot.

James was finally left alone, and he immediately summoned Twink and asked if any of the pudding was left from dinner.

"Certainly, Master James," squeaked Twink. "Where would you like it?"

"Er, the living room, I suppose, thanks Twink," replied James, scratching his chin.

The pudding given to him was demolished in a matter of minutes. Regretting his decision to not attend the comedy show, James slunk in the chair and idly wished that he had one of the magical boxes Muggles had. Professor Waite had showed them one the year before and according to her, Muggles spent a lot of time in front of them.

Not ten minutes into his boredom time, there were several large knocks on the door, and James inwardly groaned. He decided it was most likely Grace, coming back to either drag him with her or to stay inside. Other than her, he had no idea.

Realising he was taking quite a while; James hurried around the corner and unlocked the door.

"Who the bloody hell – Gracie if this is you I told you – Sirius!" James gaped at the wet form of his best friend in front of him. It looked as though he had been out in the rain for hours – droplets of water were dripping quickly off the end of his long strands of hair. When he raised his head slightly, James felt a flash of horror as a large bruise covered his cheekbone. For fear of his best friend's well-being, James's short temper bubbled slightly.

"Alright, mate?" Sirius seemed to be trying to make an effort.

"What – what the fuck happened, Padfoot?" demanded James.

"I – I had to – I had to get out of there," said Sirius, becoming wide-eyed. James was slightly shocked to see how different Sirius was acting. Never before, in their five years of friendship, had James Potter seen Sirius look as desperate as he did in that moment.

"What – wha – wait, just, come in, come in!" James realised he was gaping and let Sirius walk into the house.

Depositing his trunk at the bottom of the stairs, James followed Sirius's movements like a hawk.

"Good evening, masters," Twink squeaked, appearing quite suddenly, and seemingly unfazed by Sirius's arrival. "Is there anything I can Masters?"

"Strong whiskey," muttered Sirius and James smiled slightly despite himself.

"Er – just bring some mead, won't you?" then, to respond to Sirius's raised eyebrows, he added. "Not too strong I do actually want to hear this story and not just the start." He wanted to hear his story from start to finish and to hear the reasons why he had turned up soaking and rather terrified.

Twink nodded and disappeared. James, feeling rather lost even in his own home, decided the lounge was the best option.

"Let's go into the lounge," said James. He walked off and sat down in one of the chairs.

"Are you alone?" asked Sirius from behind him.

"Yeah," James said. "My darling family decided to all go see this comedy show - I mean, Gracie wasn't even meant to go, but then she did and it was all very annoying."

When Sirius was sat in an armchair across from him too, nearest the flickering flames of the fire, James stared at him. Sirius visibly squirmed, an uncharacteristic trait, and seemed to decide that James and himself never had secrets.

"It started getting worse yesterday," he said slowly. James nodded, egging his friend to go on. Sirius sighed. "I mean, obviously it was bad before that, but yesterday – yesterday Mother decided the house elf was getting too old. She – er – decided it would look nice on the stairs. Kreacher, the bastard, seemed keen so he'd get all the work. She was going to do it _right in front of us._ I know Reg's a little shit now but he hasn't even done O. yet. I couldn't – so, I er, tried to stop it from happening. Mother flipped her shit. It was worse than ever so I went – went upstairs and started packing. The last letter I sent, I'd taken some of Father's money out of his Gringotts account. Just in case, you know? Well, I needed it, because Kreacher came into my room, saw what I was doing and went to fetch Mother. I still had time to pack and – well, Kreacher likes to get the full picture out before the action happens."

James sat silently as Twink left the glasses of mead on the table in front of them. He reached out for it immediately and took a large gulp. Sirius mirrored his movements before wiping his hair out of his face and slinking back in his armchair.

"Well, she came up stairs – threw some things," said Sirius grimly, pointing at his cheekbone. "That was a chair. Fucking hurt. Then she decided just her presence wasn't enough and went to get reinforcements. So I got out the window and got the Knight Bus here."

He'd obviously cut down the story and its details heavily, but James knew not to push it.

"So," James said, pushing himself up slightly. "I guess you need a place to stay?"

"Yeah," said Sirius.

"Well then," James pretended to deliberate slightly. "Welcome home, buddy."

Sirius cracked a grin and jumped to his feet.

"I think a welcoming is in order," James decided. "An order to get completely fucked!"

Sirius poured some more mead for himself and for James. "Sounds like a plan." He grinned, clinked glasses and downed the lot.

* * *

 _Potter Manor_

"You've got to be _joking,_ Moony," James's face was that of awe, admiration and mirth all at once. "You found a _bird_ in Thailand?"

"You, Moony McMoony, Remus _no girl_ Lupin?" stuttered Sirius, beaming from ear to ear.

"Now, Sirius, that's rather harsh, there was that one chick –"

"Ah yes, Poppy Dorris, commonly known as Lizard Gal by most –"

"Oh fuck off, _both_ of you," Remus Lupin said, rolling his eyes and trying to look pissed off. "And Poppy had a _hobby_."

They were all stationed in the Potter's living room, spread out across the large room on various sofas and couches. Remus had just finished his tale of Thailand, and had seemed rather smug about his account with a girl he'd met there. The wizard looked enhanced in himself, with his tanner skin masking some of the scars on his face and a bright gleam in his eyes.

"No need to get tetchy, Lupin," snickered Sirius and James chortled from his position on the couch. "I'm just glad you got some."

"You forgot Wilma Verandas," piped up Peter Pettigrew, grinning. "Remember her?"

Sirius snorted with laughter as he remembered Wilma Verandas.

Peter, who'd spend most of the summer at his Grandmother Enid's house, had replied immediately to James and Sirius' letter about visiting. His Grandmother Enid was so old Peter had to wait on her hand and foot whilst she still managed to bark orders. It was for this reason that he was rather glad for the chance to leave.

"Nothing happened with Wilma Verandas," insisted Remus, looking rather pink but disgusted at the same time.

By this time three of the four wizards were sniggering so much Sirius fell off his sofa. Remus, though a grin was working his way onto his face, kicked the boy on the floor so he howled. This made James and Peter laugh even more so, and soon, Remus joined in as Sirius shouted profanities on the floor.

"Sirius, is that language necessary?" asked Mrs Potter, walking into the room and finding her adoptive son on the floor spitting out blasphemies as though they were sentences.

"Remus kicked me!" spluttered Sirius, raising himself onto his elbows and brushing his long hair out of his face. "Right in the you-know-what!"

Mrs Potter deliberated this fact for a second. Her gaze swept over her son, who was clutching his stomach; Peter, who had tears in his eyes and Remus, who was spluttering with laughter himself. She frowned and ran her fingers through her hair.

"As if Remus would do such a thing," she said, a glow in her eye. "Are you sure it wasn't James?"

She walked out then, for effect.

"James, your mum loves Remus more than me!" Sirius complained loudly.

"I'm more worried to the fact she loves Remus more than _me,"_ said James indignantly. "I mean, it's obvious with you Padfoot –"

"Oi!"

"Fight me."

"With pleasure."

What happened next was a standard occurrence, more frequent when the boys were back at Hogwarts, but regular at Potter Mansion all the same. Sirius tackled James off the sofa, who retaliated by moving in for a fight, whilst Remus and Peter wagered who was the likely winner and cheered their team on.

Once Sirius was declared winner and Peter received his winnings, they settled back on the sofas in various different positions (Sirius elected for the 'winner's stance' whilst James threw things at his head) they retracted the conversation topic back to Remus's adventures.

"You're not still seeing this girl, are you?" said Sirius. "I've told you before, mate, it's not a happy picture, long distance."

"How would you know, Padfoot?" snorted James, pausing in the midst of throwing gobstones at his friend. "The longest distance relationship you've ever had is from the girls dorm to your own."

Sirius tossed his hair back. "I think you'll find it's from our dorm to the common room," he replied, unable to supress a grin.

"This _girl_ is English anyway," said Remus. "But no, we're not."

"English, you say?" asked Sirius. "Hogwarts?"

"No, Muggle," said Remus.

"Ahh, tough love," Sirius nodded understandingly.

"Not to mention your furry little problem," smirked James.

Remus rolled his eyes. "When's the next one, anyway," Sirius added.

"Next month, dipshit," was the werewolf's reply.

"I know _that,_ Mrs Snap," said Sirius. " _When?"_

"Second week?"

"Excellent," said Sirius, rubbing his hands together. "First one of the year."

"I wouldn't describe it as 'excellent', per say," Remus said.

"You never do," said James. " _Us,_ on the other hand … well it is rather fun."

James stretched out on his sofa and put his hands behind his head. "Lighten up Moons, you've still got a while. S'not like it's on September first, is it?"

"It was once," Sirius said vaguely from his ceiling staring. "Third year?"

"Fourth," corrected Remus.

"Oh yeah," said James brightly. "We had an elaborate story for you."

"I hope it was believable," said Remus, who had picked up a Mr Potter's _Daily Prophet_ and was scanning it for news. "A lot of people have come back to me asking if my dog had recovered from being hit by a _car."_

"Well they obviously got the story wrong," Sirius said. "And anyway, we had just had a _very_ interesting on the history of automobiles. Very interesting indeed."


End file.
